


The Will of the Gods

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Fruit, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kashell the Wise had a few other things to say about how the One Who Opened The Door should be treated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Will of the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [la_Avispa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_Avispa/gifts).



Meegat was very beautiful. Avon could see that – in fact, due to the quick look he’d been unable to stop himself from taking, he could confirm that she was very beautiful … everywhere. There had been no imperfections anywhere on her smooth, pale skin, though she’d lived all her life (all her very _short_ life) on this radioactive rock. Her people must have built up an immunity early on (perhaps something that Kashell the Wise had built into their DNA), otherwise she would have been as horribly mutated as Zen had predicted - that would have made it easier.

“Is something wrong, Lord?” she asked. Her voice was low, chiming, musical.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Avon said, without moving his eyes from where he’d forcibly dragged them to a moment ago – a blank panel, two feet above her head. “But don’t you think you’re going to get cold without any of your clothes on?”

“There will be no discomfort, no pain, no fear now that you have come.”

Very unfortunate phraseology, or perhaps it wasn’t. Avon had never thought, before, that he might hate mystic pronouncements. There had never been any of them around to hate, but clearly they deserved his strong dislike in future.

“That doesn’t seem very likely,” Avon said.

“The first time may, perhaps. But after that – it will be well. And I will be filled with light, and life. With you, Lord. So it has been written.”

Fuck - she was a virgin, too? Well, of course she was. What else would you offer as a sacrifice to a god? Avon had never had much interest in deflowering virgins – something of a relief, or it would have been even more difficult to hold himself back from accepting Meegat’s kind and very naked invitation.

He wondered absently (as he tried more actively to work out how to get out of his current situation) why _this_ particular element of the prophesy had been included by Kashell, or those who had followed after him. Everything up until this point had made a strange sort of sense. Meegat’s was a planet-bound culture, who had lost their knowledge of the technology that would save them – only visitors from the stars would have the right knowledge to activate it again. Over the years, visitors from the stars had become ‘gods’. So far, so reasonable. But why, after launching the rocket, did the gods require a coupling between the one who had opened the door, and the one who had walked through it?

A reward, perhaps. Bribery. Not everyone was kind, would operate the launch codes without being offered something in return – so they’d been given Meegat in return. The idea made Avon rather ill, even as a small part of him (the same small part of him that had looked at her for longer than he should have) thought about how nice it would be to be … _rewarded_. After such a long time.

And she was very beautiful.

“Do I not please you?” she asked, her voice as almost as distraught as it had been when he’d tried to extract his ankles from her embrace earlier. Only Avon’s assurance that he hadn’t been offended, that she was completely forgiven for a non-existent slight, had comforted her then. Now, she was equally upset because he hadn’t pulled her into his arms yet and taken advantage of what she was offering. Perhaps she was about to prostrate herself at his feet again …

God, it was like some sort of low-grade pornovid – not subtle, no, but guaranteed to go straight to a man’s groin, bypassing his brain on the way.

Perhaps the ancient sages had just been unable to conceive of a god who _wouldn’t_ want a virgin to offer herself to him.

It was more likely, however, that they’d been thinking more practically. The rest of the prophesy had made sense, once Avon, Gan and Vila had discovered the rocket. Avon rather thought that Kashell had been covering his bases – launch the rocket, yes, but there was a whole civilisation still living on Cephlon. Only around a hundred, now, true, but that would be enough if they knew what they were doing. The genetic pool would be relatively stagnant, though. They might well need new genes, if they were going to make it work.

Meegat wasn’t just offering him _sex;_ she was offering him the chance to fill her with light, with life. With a child. One of many, perhaps. And if he had any followers who could impregnate her friends? So much the better.

Any part of Avon that had been in any way considering the tryst found the reason it needed to remain strong in the face of temptation. He had never been interested in children – he didn’t want to stay with her to raise demigods, nor was he interested in leaving his seed behind on this blighted world to be raised by the sort of people who didn’t know what a light bulb was. The sort of people who made _Gan_ look technologically advanced.

Thinking of Gan, and Vila and Jenna, out in the other room was enough to help him make the final leap.

“Meegat,” he said gently, still not quite managing to look at her, “you do please me. You’re a very beautiful woman, and you waited for me just as I wanted you to. You opened the door for me, and I’m very grateful.”

“It is I who should be grateful,” she said, as he’d known (a moment too late) she would do.

“Well, we can be grateful to each other,” Avon said. “What we cannot do is express that gratitude in a physical manner. Gods don’t. Those are very human pleasures. Do you understand?”

He made himself look at her, at her lovely face, her lovely neck, her lovely–– No, he kept his eyes on her face. It wouldn’t do to ruin the image of calm godhood by ogling her breasts. Fortunately the long, well-padded silver coat he was wearing had hidden anything else ungodly about his reaction to her unexpected striptease.

“But it is written,” Meegat said, beautiful eyes very large and wide. She did look distraught – damn. Avon fought the urge to comfort her, to … give her what she wanted. Sex with a complete stranger. Even without the machines of the Federation, this culture had clearly managed a very effective piece of brainwashing. It made Avon feel ill again, and again that helped.

“It is written that the Lord will arrive,” Meegat continued, “and that I will speak his name, and that he will fill me with his light and his love.”

“Meegat,” Avon said, awkwardly, “you don’t even know me. So we can’t be in love, can we? Therefore, it – wouldn’t be right, even if I did that sort of thing, which I don’t. As a god. What I want you to do is find someone that you do know, someone you do love–– Do you know someone like that?”

There was a pause. Avon tried not to look beseeching.

“When I was younger,” Meegat said, “there was a boy who worked on the farms. He brought me flowers, and he was kind to me. But I was destined for the chamber, and so it could never be.”

“Well, he sounds very suitable,” Avon said, picking up her white robe and drawing it around her with relief. “Is he married?” She shook her head. “Not promised to anyone else?”

“No, Lord.”

“Good. Go and find him, then. Be happy.”

Someone should be, Avon thought ruefully, and it seemed unlikely that it was ever going to be him.

“These are the true words of God,” he finished, to make sure the thing was done properly. “Obviously, if I was a mortal man, it would be very different, but – alas.”

“I understand,” Meegat said.

“I’m glad one of us does,” Avon muttered.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, “Avon.”

It was the first time she’d said his name without a prefix, and it tugged at Avon as something out of place. He twisted his head to look at her and, for a moment, thought he saw her … _wink_.

“Did she really think you were a god?” Cally asked him a few hours later, as she and the rest of the Liberator crew stood or sat around on the flight deck together.

Avon thought back to the flicker of an eyelid, and the smile that had followed that had seemed to say they were in this together as equals.

He smiled himself as he said, “For a while.”


End file.
